The Poetical Works of Addison; Gay's Fables; and Somerville's Chase Part 28

The hog with stutt'ring speech returns: 'Explain, sir, why your anger burns.

_40 See there, untouched, your tulips strown, For I devoured the roots alone.'

At this the gard'ner's pa.s.sion grows; From oaths and threats he fell to blows.

The stubborn brute the blow sustains; a.s.saults his leg, and tears the veins.

Ah! foolish swain, too late you find That sties were for such friends designed!

Homeward he limps with painful pace, Reflecting thus on past disgrace: _50 Who cherishes a brutal mate Shall mourn the folly soon or late.

FABLE XLIX.

THE MAN AND THE FLEA.

Whether on earth, in air, or main, Sure everything alive is vain!

Does not the hawk all fowls survey, As destined only for his prey?

And do not tyrants, prouder things, Think men were born for slaves to kings?

When the crab views the pearly strands, Or Tagus, bright with golden sands; Or crawls beside the coral grove, And hears the ocean roll above; _10 'Nature is too profuse,' says he, 'Who gave all these to pleasure me!'

When bordering pinks and roses bloom, And every garden breathes perfume; When peaches glow with sunny dyes, Like Laura's cheek, when blushes rise; When with huge figs the branches bend, When cl.u.s.ters from the vine depend; The snail looks round on flower and tree, And cries, 'All these were made for me!'

_20 'What dignity's in human nature!'

Says man, the most conceited creature, As from a cliff he cast his eye, And viewed the sea and arched sky; The sun was sunk beneath the main, The moon and all the starry train Hung the vast vault of heaven. The man His contemplation thus began: 'When I behold this glorious show, And the wide watery world below, _30 The scaly people of the main, The beasts that range the wood or plain, The winged inhabitants of air, The day, the night, the various year, And know all these by heaven design'd As gifts to pleasure human kind; I cannot raise my worth too high; Of what vast consequence am I!'

'Not of the importance you suppose,'

Replies a flea upon his nose.

_40 'Be humble, learn thyself to scan; Know, pride was never made for man.

'Tis vanity that swells thy mind.

What, heaven and earth for thee designed!

For thee, made only for our need, That more important fleas might feed.'

FABLE L.

THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.

Friendship, like love, is but a name, Unless to one you stint the flame.

The child, whom many fathers share, Hath seldom known a father's care.

Tis thus in friendships; who depend On many, rarely find a friend.

A hare, who in a civil way, Complied with everything, like Gay, Was known by all the b.e.s.t.i.a.l train Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain.

_10 Her care was never to offend, And every creature was her friend.

As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies.

She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; She hears the near advance of death; She doubles to mislead the hound, And measures back her mazy round; _20 Till fainting in the public way, Half-dead with fear, she gasping lay.

What transport in her bosom grew, When first the horse appeared in view!

'Let me,' says she, 'your back ascend, And owe my safety to a friend.

You know my feet betray my flight; To friendship every burden's light.'

The horse replied--'Poor honest puss, It grieves my heart to see thee thus; _30 Be comforted, relief is near; For all your friends are in the rear.'

She next the stately bull implored; And thus replied the mighty lord-- 'Since every beast alive can tell That I sincerely wish you well, I may, without offence, pretend To take the freedom of a friend.

Love calls me hence; a favourite cow Expects me near yon barley mow: _40 And when a lady's in the case, You know all other things give place.

To leave you thus might seem unkind; But see, the goat is just behind.'

The goat remarked her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye; 'My back,' says she, 'may do you harm; The sheep's at hand, and wool is warm.'

The sheep was feeble, and complained His sides a load of wool sustained: _50 Said he was slow, confessed his fears; For hounds cat sheep, as well as hares.

She now the trotting calf addressed, To save from death a friend distressed.

'Shall I,' says he, 'of tender age, In this important care engage?

Older and abler pa.s.sed you by; How strong are those! how weak am I!

Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence.

_60 Excuse me then. You know my heart, But dearest friends, alas! must part.

How shall we all lament! Adieu!

For see the hounds are just in view.'

PART II.

PUBLISHED AFTER GAY'S DEATH, BY THE DUKE OF QUEENSBERRY.

FABLE I.

THE DOG AND THE FOX.

TO A LAWYER.

I know you lawyers can with ease Twist words and meanings as you please; That language, by your skill made pliant, Will bend to favour every client; That 'tis the fee directs the sense, To make out either side's pretence.

When you peruse the clearest case, You see it with a double face: For scepticism's your profession; You hold there's doubt in all expression.

_10 Hence is the bar with fees supplied, Hence eloquence takes either side.

Your hand would have but paltry gleaning Could every man express his meaning.

Who dares presume to pen a deed.

Unless you previously are fee'd?

'Tis drawn; and, to augment the cost, In dull prolixity engrossed.

And now we're well secured by law, Till the next brother find a flaw.

_20 Read o'er a will. Was't ever known, But you could make the will your own; For when you read,'tis with intent To find out meanings never meant.

Since things are thus, _se defendendo_, I bar fallacious innuendo.

Sagacious Porta's[6] skill could trace Some beast or bird in every face.

The head, the eye, the nose's shape, Proved this an owl, and that an ape.

_30 When, in the sketches thus designed, Resemblance brings some friend to mind, You show the piece, and give the hint, And find each feature in the print: So monstrous like the portrait's found, All know it, and the laugh goes round.

Like him I draw from general nature; Is't I or you then fix the satire?

So, sir, I beg you spare your pains In making comments on my strains.

_40 All private slander I detest, I judge not of my neighbour's breast: Party and prejudice I hate, And write no libels on the state.

Shall not my fable censure vice, Because a knave is over-nice?

And, lest the guilty hear and dread, Shall not the decalogue be read?

If I lash vice in general fiction, Is't I apply, or self-conviction?

_50 Brutes are my theme. Am I to blame, If men in morals are the same?

I no man call an ape or a.s.s: Tis his own conscience holds the gla.s.s; Thus void of all offence I write; Who claims the fable, knows his right.

A shepherd's dog unskilled in sports, Picked up acquaintance of all sorts: Among the rest, a fox he knew; By frequent chat their friendship grew.

_60 Says Reynard--' 'Tis a cruel case, That man should stigmatise our race, No doubt, among us rogues you find, As among dogs, and human kind; And yet (unknown to me and you) There may be honest men and true.

Thus slander tries, whate'er it can, To put us on the foot with man, Let my own actions recommend; No prejudice can blind a friend: _70 You know me free from all disguise; My honour as my life I prize.'

By talk like this, from all mistrust The dog was cured, and thought him just.

As on a time the fox held forth On conscience, honesty, and worth, Sudden he stopp'd; he c.o.c.ked his ear; And dropp'd his brushy tail with fear.